


Right to Flowers

by midautumnnightdream



Series: Gardens AU [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Cosette Appreciation Week 2020, Cosette is a Wild Child, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Families of Choice, Fantine Lives, Fantine raises Cosette, Feelings About Architecture, Fix-It, Gardens & Friendships, Gardens AU, Gen, Georges raises Marius, Goth Cosette, Romanticism, slices of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26660335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midautumnnightdream/pseuds/midautumnnightdream
Summary: In a kinder universe, Fantine chooses to remain in Paris with her daughter.Here are a few glimpses of the life they make for themselves and the friends they find along the way.Originally posted on tumblr for Cosette Appreciation Week 2020.
Relationships: Cosette Fauchelevent & Bahorel, Cosette Fauchelevent & Jean Valjean, Cosette Fauchelevent & Éponine Thénardier & Azelma Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac & Cosette Fauchelvent & Marius Pontmercy, Fantine & Cosette Fauchelevent
Series: Gardens AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924915
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #1 of the Cosette Appreciation week – ’Flight’

"Come on," Cosette wheedled. "This is fun, I promise."

Éponine gave her a sceptical look. To be sure, the willow trunk Cosette was perched on seemed sturdy enough, but it leaned steeply across the river, as if held in place by some kind of fairy magic. The water underneath was deep and dark, deceptively fast under its placid surface.

She could hear the echo of Bahorel's laughter somewhere upstream, and her little brother, chattering away like a merry sparrow. If any of them slipped and fell, there would be no one to help them but each other.

Cosette was already clambering up the branches, paying little heed to her skirt hems. The catkins were leaving smears of yellow dust across her hair and dress, but she didn't seem to mind. Finally settling in her chosen seat, she turned around, giving her friends a grin that was both an encouragement and a challenge.

Éponine could feel Azelma's questioning eyes on her, and let out a huff, before taking the first careful step onto the tree trunk. Certainly she had done scarier things than this, especially when still living with her father, but sometimes she just couldn't understand the wild fancies that passed through Cosette head. "Are you sure this can bear the weight of all of us? Azelma doesn't swim all that well, you know." Behind her, her sister made a noise of complaint, but didn't argue. Cosette merely laughed.

Eventually, after much fussing and several heart-stopping moments, all three girls were more-or-less safely ensconced in the willow branches, and not too much worse for wear. "So what now?" Azelma wondered.

Cosette grinned, reaching out to clasp the sisters' hands in her own. "Now we'll close our eyes and imagine we're flying."


	2. Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #2 of the Cosette Appreciation week – ’Garden’

Cosette peeked over the fence, perching on her toes for a better look. "Did you know, Father Leblanc, there are nettles in your garden."

Jean Valjean nodded solemnly. "Yes indeed, little one. The humble nettle has many uses."

The child didn't seem to pay him much heed. Standing on her tiptoes, twigs caught in her hair and eyes alight with fascination, she gave a good impression of a curious young bird. An impatient one. Jean Valjean smiled almost despite himself.

"Go and take a look, if you wish."

Cosette didn't need to be told twice.


	3. Holy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #3 of the Cosette Appreciation week – 'Holy'

Maman's hand was steady reassurance around Cosette's, the warmth of her coat comforting against the chill of the centuries.

"Now don't you go wandering off," maman reminded her. "There are so many people here, who knows when I'll find you again."

Cosette could hardly hear the words, as she stared around in wonder. The _Cathédrale Notre-Dame_ was nothing like the little church they usually visited. For one thing, it was much, much bigger than any building Cosette had ever been in. Certainly, it looked grand on the outside, but the inside...

The chandeliers cast flickering shadows that formed vast caverns of the nooks and crannies, reaching deeper than an eye could follow and leaving echoes on their wake. The stone walls had taken on a dark, almost dreary sheen. Even the colourful windows seemed ominous, dulled by the layers of soot that must have been old when Father Mabeuf was still a little boy. There was chill in the air, which even the crowds of people gathering for the Christmas Mass couldn't dispel.

For a moment Cosette felt a little short of breath. Young as she was, she could tell, without quite knowing how, that this building was very very old. A bit sad, and quite ill-kept, but old, and so very strong all the same. Thousand girls had walked here before her, coming to hear Christmas Mass with their mothers, and thousands more would come long after she was gone.

Was this what the adults meant, when they talked about the presence of God? This sense of both insignificance and belonging, of feeling the touch of something grand that reached out across the centuries?

"Cosette?" Maman was looking at her in concern now, a small frown marring her features. Her hair was spun gold in candlelight, and it occurred suddenly to Cosette, that her maman looked like she belonged to this space, grand and beautiful and little bit sad, and sometimes so very weary. She gave maman a small secretive smile, and said nothing.

Fantine smiled. "Let's find ourselves some seats."


	4. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #4 of the Cosette Appreciation week – 'Music'

Cosette regarded the apparatus in front of her with a measure of  scepticism. "How does one even go about playing on such a thing?" She gave the nearest set of keys a tentative poke. When it failed to respond, she pushed harder, jumping a bit when the instrument answered with an unexpected  vigour. She turned the suspicious look on her host. "Do  _you_ know how to play it?"

"Not at all," Bahorel answered cheerfully. "This is rather the charm, don't you think?"

"To learn?" Cosette wondered. In her experience, it was rarely that straightforward with Bahorel. Indeed, the man was already shaking his head vigorously.

"No, no, not in the least! To learn – that is to say, to be hindered. All the wild imagination, all the grandeur of a human soul, bound by the chains of what has been done before? No, the true liberation can only be found by the road of discovery, and the true discovery is precipitated by ignorance. I have no intention of learning to play, and neither should you."

"But then how would you make music? By simply hitting the keys to see what happens?" Cosette wondered. "A child could do that."

For some reason, that notion seemed to be terribly amusing to Bahorel. "Children have good ideas sometimes. Go on, give it a try." Recognising Cosette's hesitation, his smile grew even wider – a wicked sharp thing, and ever so terribly fun. "Don't worry about my  neighbours , I promise you they have heard worse."

"I have no doubt about  _that_ ," Cosette scoffed, accepting the challenge for what it was.   
  


* * *

Fantine, brought to the sitting room by what she had been quite sure were the trumpets of approaching apocalypse, regarded the scene in front of her with equal parts of consternation and baffled amusement. "Oh Bahorel. The things you do."

"What?" The look she received in return was one of pure injured innocence. "A young lady should have a musical instrument. It develops judgement and fine sensibilities, or so Madame Gay tells me."

"A grand idea," Fantine agreed. "But Bahorel – how  _did_ you get a church organ to the fifth floor?"


	5. Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #5 of the Cosette Appreciation week – 'black'

Courfeyrac clucked his tongue, leaning back from the balustrade, where he had been observing Marius and Cosette make their hurried approach across the Luxembourg. "A fine pair you make. Mademoiselle Lanoire and Monsieur Lenoir. And twenty minutes late to boot."

Cosette raised an eyebrow at the unusual greeting, as she handed Courfeyrac her parasol – black – so that she could better adjust her bonnet – black – and the hems of her pelerine – black, albeit exquisitely embroidered with tiny purple flowers.

"Is Monsieur lodging a complaint against my sartorial sensibilities? You didn't seem to mind them yesterday, when you spent all morning trying to decide on a waistcoat pattern."

"Complaint? Oh no not at all." Courfeyrac hurried to assure, shaking his head hard enough to send his curls bouncing in every direction. "Mademoiselle is the very vision of the next year's fashion plates – although the dressmakers of the city will be hard-pressed to find models capable of carrying such colour  palette with half of her vivacity. As for Monsieur le Baron, I shall refrain from commenting."

‘Monsieur le Baron’ rewarded that aside with a playful scowl. "Courfeyrac will have his little witticisms. Cosette, if you ever wish to know peace again, I suggest you pay him no heed."

"Monsieur wounds me," complained Courfeyrac, settling between his two friends, and offering an arm to each. "My good behaviour is much more easily bought. Walk with me, and satisfy my  curiosity. Why black? Are you aspiring to join a religious order, or is that the dogma of a private church, a pact formed between the two of you, which neither shall break, before the other does?"

Cosette laughed. "Nothing so solemn, M'sieur Courfeyrac. It is a bit of a childhood habit I suppose – my Maman was of opinion that if I was going to get dust and mud and grass stains on every dress I wore, they should be made dark enough not to show. And later, when I learned to sew my own dresses, I kept to the colour palette, if not always the choice of cuts and materials." She grinned a bit. "It was a fair war too. Maman will tell you, we had some right rows over what is and isn't suitable for young girl to wear. But it matters not," she continued, twirling the dark handle of her parasol between her fingers. "There's something a bit grand about black dress, isn't there? It's a bit like having a secret that no one else knows."

"Except for Monsieur le Baron, of course," Courfeyrac concluded with a grin. "Now I'm mightily curious about _his_ reasoning." He twisted around, so he could walk backwards, facing the couple. "What do you say, Monsieur _l'_ _A_ _bbé_? What is your excuse?"

"Monsieur le Baron is my father," Marius complained. "And I'm no more an  _abbé_ than Cosette is. What? Black is fine and sensible colour, and very practical."

"You're wasting your time," Cosette advised. "I've been picking out his fabrics since I was old enough to help Maman."

"Really? Is that so?" If possible, Courfeyrac's grin grew even wider, threatening to spill over the edges. "I beg you, Mademoiselle, because now I really must know – what is that secret of yours?"

Cosette gave en elegant shrug. "He looks very pretty in black."


	6. Exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #6 of the Cosette Appreciation week – 'Exercise'

18th of June, 1825

The shuttlecock was bright against the summer sky, adorned cheerfully with blue, green and yellow feathers that reminded Cosette of the exotic birds in Father Mabeuf's book. She watched Azelma examining her battledore with an expression of deep fascination. "You play by hitting the cock back and forth with the battledores," she explained. "We  practised a bit when Marius' cousin Theodule was visiting last year." She wrinkled her nose. "Theodule is bossy."

"She's grumpy because Theodule wouldn't let her play much," Marius explained. He gave his own battledore a few experimental swings, grinning a bit at the swooshing sound it made. "He said she is too little."

"Well! That was a whole year ago," Cosette said with a dignified sniff only a freshly-turned-ten year old could muster. "Besides, it's not fair to make fun of me when he had years to practice and i was only playing for the first time."

"Really? How rude!" said Éponine. She was holding up the other shuttlecock, which was just as cheerful as it's fellow, except with red feathers instead of the yellow ones. "We should show him. There's four of us – we can take turns  practising with each other, and when this Theodule visits again, we're  _all_ going to be better than him."

That was voted to be a grand idea. Marius, who at fourteen-and-half was somewhat obligated to wrinkle his nose at the idea of being roped into hours of shuttlecock practice with clumsily enthusiastic younger children, nevertheless accepted the solemn duty of finding the perfect location for their games. Éponine and Azelma followed at his heels like a pair of ducklings, offering more or less helpful advise with an air of great sagacity.

Cosette lingered a bit, turning back to the tall figure who had been observing the children in quiet contentment. No longer able to contain herself, she rushed forward and threw her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered. "And thank you for getting battledores for the others too."

Jean Valjean smiled solemnly. "Happy birthday, Cosette."


	7. New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day #7 of the Cosette Appreciation week – ’New’

"Maman, I wish to marry Marius"

Fantine glanced up from her needlework in some surprise. Her daughter was sitting with her hands in her lap and her back straight, her posture betraying the nervous determination not visible on her face or in her voice. Her own sewing was long since discarded.

"Is that so?" Fantine asked. "Has he made a proposal, then?"

"Not yet. But I know he will, someday soon. He's of that sort." Cosette considered for a moment "Or more likely, he'll come to speak to you about proposing to me. He's of  _that_ sort."

"And when he does, you intend to accept." Fantine folded her sewing carefully in her lap, before giving her daughter a long considering look. "Cosette, are you absolutely sure?"

Cosette blinked, seeming somewhat thrown by the question. "Do you disapprove then?"

"Of Marius?" Fantine shook her head. "No, not at all. He's a lovely boy and as good as family. You know that."

"Of what then?" Cosette shifted in her seat. "Do you know, ever since Marius and I started seeing each other – and maybe even longer than that – he's always been terribly concerned about showing to you that he has  honourable intentions. That he's never going to be like, well. That man."

Fantine couldn't help the short bark of laughter at the ludicrous idea. "Oh Cosette, rest assured if I had any doubts on  _that_ account, I'd have made them known long before now. Marius is a good boy – a good man, I should say. But marriage is a serious undertaking."

"If  _he_ had married you, your life would have been much easier."

"Or it would have been a perfect misery. All I ever demanded of Felix was that he  fulfil his duty as a father – and he failed even in that. Oh I had my hopes and beautiful fancies, like any girl charmed and in love on a summer morning, but do you think it would have been any kind of life, chained to a man who would turn away from his own child? Cosette, a marriage is more than a promise of love and partnership. A wife obeys her husband. He determines how she can spend her money, how she should live, what becomes of her children. A husband can be a perfect tyrant, and there's none who will tell him otherwise."

Cosette frowned. "You say Marius is nothing like that man, and yet you think he would act like he did? That he’d treat me like an amusing trifle, or a singing bird in a cage, to be dismissed and discarded when it's inconvenient? Don't you think that uncle Georges – and you – and all of us – have raised him to be better than that?"

Fantine shook her head. "Marius is Marius. He always means well, but that doesn't mean he always understands everything right. You have your own ideas what a married life should look like, and he has his. You should speak with him of these things, before you promise him obedience by sacred duty."

Cosette nodded. "I will do that. Moreover, I've known Marius for longer than anyone – other than you, of course. I should think I know how to handle him when he gets odd ideas in his head."

"That's why I'm not too worried. But Cosette? Be very sure. If you are to marry, do it for yourself. Not for me, not to soothe Marius sense of honour, or Father Leblanc's sense of propriety." Fantine gave a quick smile at Cosette's startled look. "Or even," she added with a hint of  mischief in her voice "because you have taken a fancy to the idea of being called Madame la Baronne some day."

Cosette laughed and clapped her hands. "Oh, but I hadn't thought of that! You're right, I do fancy it." She sobered. "Not because of what people might call me, mind you. But i like the idea of a world where a baron's son and grisette's daughter might marry and their friends and family come together to celebrate and be happy, and none of them think it odd."

"Some of our friends will think it a delightful scandal," Fantine corrected. "I hope you're ready for Bahorel to spread the happy news in every salon, for the joy of astonishing the prim and proper."

"Let them be astonished then," Cosette grinned. "Oh, poor Marius, he'll have to break the news to his grandfather. You know, I'm sure Monsieur Gillenormand will say the same thing you did, that there is no reason us to marry at all. I hope he won't be terribly upset with Marius."

"As I recall, you charmed him rather thoroughly when we met him at the theatre," Fantine reminded her, a bit dryly. Monsieur Gillenormand had lavished compliments at both the mother and the daughter, and it had not been the sort of veneration the former had found particularly enjoyable. "With our luck, we'll soon be commiserating with Marius over his dreaded dinner invites."

"A small sacrifice for a great cause," Cosette declared loftily. Fantine watched her daughter fondly, taking in the flush in her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes.

"You know, I would be lying if I said I haven't dreamed of this day," she said softly. "Dear girl, I wish you every happiness under the sun, I hope you know that."

Cosette clasped her mother’s hands in her own. "You approve, then?" she asked, suddenly unsure and so terribly young. "Because you do have to approve, for the law says so, and also I could never forgive myself if I married against your will."

"Cosette..."

"And I know, this makes things more difficult, because I don't have any of the proper paperwork, and then that costs money, and a wedding costs money, and there are lots of things we have to figure out beforehand, and I don't want you to think I'm in a hurry to leave you behind or anything but – oh, forget barons and grisettes, i wish to live in a world where i can be married to the man I love and  _know_ that my husband will never consider me less than his equal."

"Cosette." The linens and pins scattered on the ground, forgotten, as Fantine rose from her seat. Startled, Cosette followed suit. Within a moment, she was wrapped in a familiar embrace, warm and tight and fierce with memories of long winter nights with no heating, and of cold kept at bay with stubborn resilience. "From the day you were born, and then again from the day your father left and you were mine and mine alone – I promised myself that you can be anything your heart desires to be. A grisette or a baroness or a dancing bear. Anything. And heaven protect anyone who would say a word against you, for I will fight them myself, my nails and teeth and my poor needle torn hands. I swear this by God and Holy Virgin and by every saint in the heaven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! Thank you everyone who's been reading this. ^_^


End file.
